


Hotel

by yarukiswitch



Category: Kanjani8 (Band)
Genre: Limbo, M/M, Purgatory, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-20
Updated: 2014-09-20
Packaged: 2018-02-18 02:02:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2331113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yarukiswitch/pseuds/yarukiswitch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>And she said "We are all just prisoners here, of our own device"</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hotel

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the _Fight For the Eight_ PV.

~

Clock says 9:43. It ticks, ticks, ticks but never moves; the hand spasming and cracking into the bottom of the 9 like it’s kicking it’s ass.

Ryuhei doesn’t remember a time when he wasn’t staring at the clock. He slices into his hand and watches the blood fall to the ground. He feels nothing, but he didn’t feel anything before, either. It’s all old hat now, anyway.

Who was he before? No-one of consequence. No-one brave enough to live by his own rules, no-one strong enough to live with his real face forward. Hell was exactly what you made it, and here he plays music to no-one who really cares. 

The blood hits the floor. A girl in a giraffe head offers him something, but he waves her away and cuts his fingerprints off. _No-one._

His skin heals without him seeing. Maybe because he’s watching the clock again, click/tick/kick, maybe because he can feel the foggy edges of a memory creeping into his conscious again.

It’s there, then it’s gone, and he slices the skin off his thumb in time with the clock.

~

He paints his left eye. Only his left eye. He can’t remember if he slept. He can’t remember remembering. He can’t remember his name, or a time before this. He only remembers the pulsing of music and screaming words until he was hoarse, but the words bled out of him the same time life did. It feels empty, but safe, then empty and he only paints his left eye. 

It’s not so bad here. It’s warm, there’s girls and boys and he spends his time teasing his hair up impossibly and playing a bastardized version of Russian Roulette with Ryo. He’s as ruined as he is, so they make a nice pair. Broken, ground down, but a nice pair.

Ryo tells him his name is Subaru, as if they were apart of a world where names where important, and they sleep together. Ryo pulls his nails down Subaru’s face and whispers in a language neither of them speak, The Devil watching from the doorway like he engineered the whole thing. Subaru supposes he did, his fingers in Ryo’s mouth and his painted eye running black down his face. 

It’s nasty and dirty, and it feels like nothing. 

~

Tadayoshi plays a game.

The loser has to bleed.

He’s not sure of the rules, but he plays. It fills the time, which is nearly impossible, and the Trumpeter’s mask melts before his eyes. 

Tadayoshi plays a game, and he always loses. 

~

The Devil is a good dresser. The Devil’s Sidekick, as Shota comes to know him, is also a good dresser; he talks more, says nothing, but it’s better than the smirk and pull of The Devil’s silence. Neither has a sense of humor, except for when they use the girls to manipulate him and see things from his life before. 

His mother, warm and comforting; his sister, teasing and natural; Shota doesn’t blink anymore when they disappear back into the depths of a faceless girl with a panda head, waiting to rip his neck open. It’s funny, _right?_ , and he giggles, tattooing another hazy line on to his skin while the Devil’s Sidekick whispers little lies into his ears. 

“Have you had enough?” is the line that pulls him up onto his feet, his skin burning from new ink and never aging. The Devil is where he always is, waiting, and Shota bows his head. 

“Why do you do this?” and The Devil smiles, pale and beautiful. He invites Shota into his room, empty bar a bed, and gestures to him to sit down.

“I didn’t do this. You know that, right?”

Shota does. “We did this to ourselves,” and he closes his eyes as The Devil laughs, the soundtrack of forever. 

~


End file.
